


A Friend in Need

by ElwritesFanworks



Category: Watchmen (2009), Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Awkward Boners, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bad Decisions, Blood, Bodily Fluids, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Dorkiness, Ejaculate, Expired Lube, Facials, Gross, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Kidney Stones, Lube, M/M, Medical Conditions, Medical Procedures, No Lube, Poor Hygiene, Pre-Slash, Ridiculous, Sexual Repression, Sexual Tension, Sounding, Urine, do not try this at home, kind of cracky, kind of not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:52:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElwritesFanworks/pseuds/ElwritesFanworks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rorschach has a medical emergency and won't go to a hospital. Dan's just trying to do the right thing, in a perfectly normal, non-porny, heterosexual way. Really.</p><p>Advanced warning for:</p><p>Porn! And kidney stones! At the same time! :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Friend in Need

**Author's Note:**

> This is movieverse, and my first foray into this fandom. It's also, like virtually everything I write, a clusterfuck of wrong, wrong, why would you write porn about this you sick, twisted fuck?
> 
> Additionally, I spent way too long trying to find information on if there were disposable lube packs in the 1980s before I gave up and went with it. But I did some research for this demented thing I wrote, so an effort was made. Also, I am playing fast and loose with the layout of Dan's house because, damn it, Jim, I'm a writer, not an architect!
> 
> Lastly, a PSA:
> 
> DO NOT TRY ANYTHING IN THIS FIC AT HOME  
> EXCEPT DRINKING WATER  
> BUT IF YOU EVER GET A KIDNEY STONE, DO NOT STICK TWEEZERS, WITH EXPIRED LUBE ON THEM, OR AT ALL, INTO YOUR URETHRA. THIS IS NOT A GOOD THING TO DO. DON'T DO IT.

* * *

Something was bothering Rorschach.

Dan had no idea what it was, but it was getting more and more noticeable in the way Rorschach moved, as if he was in a significant amount of pain. Given his ability to stoically tolerate more than a little discomfort, and the fact that he was about as likely to go easy on himself as to put on a flower crown and start dancing around singing about free love, Rorschach was, Dan deduced, probably concealing a really serious injury. He also probably hadn’t cleaned it properly, which explained why it was getting worse, and not better, as days went on.

Things reached a critical point when, as the duo was crouched behind a dumpster by an old warehouse, trying to keep quiet and gather intelligence on a human trafficking ring, Rorschach shifted his weight and released a noise of startled pain that alerted their targets to their location and subjected both men to a barrage of gunfire.

Rorschach was cringing with every step as he and Dan hurried towards Archie and stumbled inside and out of harm’s way.

“What was that about?” Dan choked out when he stopped wheezing and his pulse began to subside to a normal level. Rorschach shook his head.

“Nothing… fine.”

“You’re not fine – you’re still in the fetal position for God’s sake!”

“Fine, Daniel. Just… need the men’s room.”

“We nearly got killed because you had to pee? Seriously?”

Rorschach just sat there, flinching. Dan shook his head and set off for his place.

When they got back, Dan assumed that Rorschach would just go off to use the bathroom, given how badly he apparently needed to go (and _what was with that?_ That guy had better control over his bodily functions than anyone Dan had ever met – something wasn’t adding up,) but he didn’t. He brushed past Dan, searched the kitchen, located a spoon and a can of vegetable stew and settled with a visible shudder at the kitchen table, mask pushed up enough to eat.

“Um, what’s going on?” Dan asked when Rorschach made no move explain his atypical behaviour.

“Going on, Daniel?”

“Yeah! One minute you’re desperate to get back here, and the next you’re acting like nothing’s wrong. Honestly I’d be happier not even asking this, since it’s like the last thing I want to have a conversation about, but I thought you had to use the bathroom…?”

“In a minute,” Rorschach answered, and Dan resisted the urge to throw his hands up in frustration.

“Fine, well, I’ll just leave you to it,” he sighed and left the room. If Rorschach wanted to torture himself and stew in his own juices, (and, oh God, that was _not_ a good choice of words, ugh,) then it was his business.

Dan was content to keep it his business, but after roughly forty-five minutes of reading the same dry paragraph of a cheap paperback he’d found on the subway, and listening to hear if Rorschach had gone into the bathroom (he had, about forty minutes ago) and if he had come back out (he hadn’t,) Dan decided he would have to put his misgivings aside and be concerned and helpful, because he was the closest thing that Rorschach had to a friend, and friends don’t let their friends suffer for forty-five minutes alone in a bathroom without at least checking to make sure they didn’t pass out or run out of toilet paper or get their butt stuck in the toilet bowl or something.

Standing in the dark hallway, illuminated only by the sliver of light leaking out from under the closed door, Dan considered the repercussions of intervening. He wasn’t exactly sure how Rorschach would take to being disturbed but he doubted it would be a positive experience. Hoping that it wouldn’t result in a violent retaliation, he knocked on the closed door.

“You okay in there, buddy? You’ve been in there a while.”

All he got was a grunt in response.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

There was a long pause. Dan turned to go, giving up entirely, when the door opened a fraction and Rorschach’s swirling visage appeared, poking out into the hallway. It wasn’t always possible to read clear expressions on his face, but it was clear he was in considerable pain.

“Not fine, Daniel,” he said, and he really didn’t sound so great.

Dan shifted his weight and scratched his head.

“You’re gonna have to be a little more descriptive. What’s wrong?”

In response, Rorschach’s face retreated and the door opened another inch. Dan frowned. He had a bad feeling that this was an invitation to go in – something that he didn’t particularly want to do. More alarmingly, however, was the fact that, as much as he didn’t want to go in, Rorschach probably really didn’t want him to either, which meant that something was possibly dangerously wrong.

“I’m coming in, okay?” Dan announced before he acted. Another grunt from beyond the door.

Dan shut the door behind him. He wasn’t honestly sure what he’d been expecting to find. Some grim tableau of horrific diarrhea or floor-to-ceiling projectile vomit came to mind, but that was not what he saw. The room was as clean as ever, and Rorschach wasn’t even anywhere near the toilet.

He was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, his mask rolled up over his nose. He was breathing sharply and his thin lips were curled downwards in a grimace. A quick flick of the eyes downwards (and wow, Dan really hoped Rorschach didn’t notice that, or at least didn’t misinterpret it,) revealed that Rorschach’s pants were open, and his dingy underwear was pushed out of the way, leaving his flaccid cock exposed to the air. Normally reluctant to remove a single layer of his clothing, Rorschach seemed, at the moment, too unwell and exhausted to care.

“Um,” Dan managed, and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t take his eyes off the tangle of fire-red curls, the freckles (the freckles!) on the pale shaft, the delicate overhang of foreskin. _Don’t look at it, don’t look at it, don’t look at it…_ “What’s wrong?”

“Can’t urinate,” Rorschach said, gritting his teeth.

“Uh, why?” he asked, and wondered if he could get an award for stupid things to say because that took the whole damn cake.

“Blocked… very uncomfortable.”

Dan blinked in surprise as he put the pieces together.

“You mean like a kidney stone?”

Rorschach shrugged, staring down at his cock.

“Shoot, that’s serious. If it’s bad enough that you can’t even… and it was like this when we were on patrol? Why didn’t you say something?”

“Happened before,” Rorschach mumbled, his inkblots swirling with conflicting pain and embarrassment, “Thought it would pass.”

Dan stared at him, shaking his head. It made sense – Rorschach was certainly in the age range when kidney stones were a reasonable possibility, and his diet was so poor it was incredible he hadn’t had a stroke a long time ago, let alone a few crystalized deposits stuck in his urinary tract. Not to mention, he rarely drank water, when Dan was around at least.

“So you’ve had this happen before? What did you do then?”

Rorschach shrugged again, and that’s when Dan realized it wasn’t a shrug – it was a wince.

“Tried forcing it out,” the smaller man said flatly. When Dan looked confused, he attempted a motion on himself that was akin to squeezing the last dregs of toothpaste out of a tube. He broke off with a cough and doubled over for a moment, biting off what sounded almost like a rough sob.

“That’s not… hang on, I have a medical book in the other room. I’ll be right back,” Dan exclaimed, glad to escape so he could try to forget the sight of a man forcing a sharp object manually out of his urethra, as though he were furiously milking a cow.

The home medical book had an entry on kidney stones that he glanced over. ‘Drink lots of water’ stuck out and Dan nodded. That he could supply.

When he walked back into the bathroom with a bottle of water and a glass, Rorschach growled.

“Not funny, Daniel.”

“Not trying to be. You need to stay hydrated to help flush your system out.”

Dan filled the glass and handed it to Rorschach.

“Not thirsty.”

“Yeah, I know, but it’ll help in the long run. Also, here, so you can cover yourself.”

Dan handed Rorschach a fresh facecloth, which he draped over himself. The redhead drained the glass and passed it back to Dan for a refill, which he swallowed with a grimace. He made no move to dismiss Dan from the bathroom, so the taller man leaned against the door and tried to ignore how awkward he felt.

“Just how many times has this happened before, anyway?” he asked. Rorschach responded by reaching into the pocket of his trench coat and pulling out what looked like a pill bottle, which he tossed to Dan. He frowned at it, adjusting his glasses and squinting at the label, only to hear something rattling around inside, recoil in horror and drop it on the floor.

“Aw, man, you _saved_ them?” he groaned, rubbing his hands reflexively on his pants in disgust.

“Said yourself – might need medical attention. Could be useful.”

“That’s… actually probably helpful, really, but you should warn people before you hand them your -”

Dan stopped speaking when Rorschach suddenly jolted as if in agony, and staggered to his feet, flinging the facecloth away.

“Are you –”

Rorschach didn’t respond, the visible half of his face screwed up and reddened with effort as he angled his cock over the toilet bowl. Nothing came out and he growled in frustration, repeating his earlier ‘toothpaste tube move’ on himself before Dan could tell him not to.

“Stop – stop it, Jesus, you’re gonna hurt yourself!” Dan shouted, his own organ shrinking in sympathetic pain.

“No choice,” Rorschach forced out, pulling on himself a few more times before putting the seat down and collapsing onto the toilet, panting.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” Dan said but Rorschach shook his head.

“No hospital.”

“But this isn’t working! If only we had some kind of tool to…”

Dan trailed off, the problem solver in him supplying a possible solution.

“Wait here, I have an idea,” he said, and left the room for the second time.

He returned moments later with a 10-inch pair of straight tweezers, and set them beside the sink as he opened the medicine cabinet and retrieved some cotton swabs and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Rorschach recoiled slightly at the sight of Dan, advancing towards him with the tweezers, still dripping with ethanol, gripped tightly in his hand.

“This will probably hurt,” he admitted, “but probably less than your manual method.”

“Pain is expected… can do without the help.”

“Look, with all due respect, I just witnessed something so scarring that I’ll probably never be able to see a penis again without crying, so can you please, please, just let me do this?”

Rorschach frowned.

“No desire to encourage homosexual touching  –”

“Oh for – look it’s not – this is maintenance for the team. We can’t go out on patrol if you’re injured.”

Rorschach didn’t seem convinced. Dan sighed and tried a different tactic.

 “Look, I’m doing this because we’re friends, okay? Friends help each other when they’re in pain. I trust, I know (he didn’t) that you’d do the same for me, because we look out for each other!”

Rorschach’s mask swirled where it sat, bunched up on his face, and his mouth smoothed out somewhat.

“So, is it okay if I…?”

Rorschach tugged his mask back on and nodded once.

Dan swallowed, knees protesting to being pressed into the hard floor. He shuffled forward, at eye level with his partner’s penis. Heart in his mouth, blood rushing loud in his ears, he reached out with a trembling hand and gently gripped Rorschach’s cock. He felt it harden a little, almost at once, which wasn’t a surprise, given how tightly-wound Rorschach was, but made him acutely aware of what he was doing, and what he was about to do.

Using the pad of his thumb to draw back the redhead’s foreskin (and wow, that was kind of weird, Dan thought, and kind of cool, too, in a strictly objective, platonic, not homosexual way,) he found himself faced with the pink opening of Rorschach’s urethra. He wrinkled his nose a bit at the smell – Rorschach’s hygiene, unsurprisingly, left something to be desired – and with the steadiness of hand he used when working with the most delicate of machines, guided the tip of the tweezers into Rorschach’s penis.

The stinging blow to the side of his head that made Dan’s ears ring was Rorschach’s equivalent of a warning slap. Had he not been reeling from the strike and holding a dick in his hands, the bespectacled hero would have smacked himself in the forehead at his own oversight.

“Sorry, shit, should’ve used some lube. Hold on.”

Dan left for a third time, and came back with a throw-away packet of lube. He squinted at the date on the side.

“Okay, hopefully this is okay to use. I don’t have any since honestly I’ve been busy lately with fighting crime and not dating and I’m in a bit of a dry spell and honestly I think it’s still okay if you’re just going to urinate afterwards anyway, but keep an eye on it because technically it expired a year ago, so just –”

“Daniel,” Rorschach growled and the edge to his voice smartened Dan up enough to stop babbling and tear open the pack, accidentally squirting some onto Rorschach’s half-hard prick.

“Oh, jeez, sorry. Just let me get some on the tweezers.”

When the tweezers were dripping with lube, he took hold of Rorschach’s (now slippery, pink, warm, kind of (scientifically, just scientifically) fascinating) uncut cock, slid the foreskin back again, and eased the tweezers into the redhead’s dick.

He had them about a third of the way in before they bumped against something that made Rorschach wince.

“Okay, there it is, I just have to grab it. It’s really hard to get a grip with all this lube –”

Dan twisted his hand slightly, and the stroke sent a shiver through his repressed partner. The cock in his hand hardened fully and he swallowed again. The tweezers bumped against the blockage again and he shifted his hold again and Rorschach made a strangled noise.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Dan repeated like a mantra as he finally got a grip on the kidney stone. He pulled on it slightly and Rorschach hissed.

“Painful, Daniel,” he managed and without thinking, Dan rubbed his cock with what he’d meant as a reassuring touch. It probably would have been, too, had it occurred on a shoulder, or a bicep, or something that wasn’t a sexual organ. The reaction was a sudden stiffening of his partner’s whole body. He looked up – Rorschach’s face was whirling and rearranging itself at unprecedented speed, fracturing and reforming shapes, until suddenly a stillness broke over the mask and it faded to blankness for a few seconds. Then all at once, Rorschach was animate again, his voice tight and frantic.

“Get it out – get it out Daniel, get it –”

The tweezers were moving of their own accord, and without thinking, Dan pulled them the rest of the way out. No sooner had he lowered them to the floor than something shot out and struck the frame of his glasses, and he glanced down to see the kidney stone, about the size of a dime, but there was more coming out – and – oh, oh shit!

Dan was thankful that he had the presence of mind to close his mouth and shut his eyes before Rorschach’s come was spurting onto his face. Dan was aware that Rorschach was whimpering and hyperventilating and that he, himself, was holding his breath, hard in his pants, as his partner showered him in semen.

The moment the flood of ejaculate stopped, he opened his eyes, only to have to close them again as a scalding jet of urine exploded from the end of Rorschach’s prick, stopping and starting in bursts as his abdominal muscles contracted with the aftershocks of orgasm, and it was soaking Dan, his face, his shirt, his hair and it shouldn’t have made him harder but it did, oh, wow, it really did.

Distantly, he thought he heard Rorschach apologizing, but that might have been wishful thinking on his part. When the stream slowed to a trickle, he opened his eyes hesitantly. His glasses were dripping, he was looking through a mixture of come and urine and the thought of it was enough to push him over the edge, peaking, untouched, in his briefs.

There was a silence, a stillness, at first. Then Dan was shuffling backwards, taking his glasses off and wiping them on his sleeve. He replaced them on his face and looked at Rorschach’s flushed, softening cock. There was a bit of blood leaking from the slit. He smoothed it away with his thumb without thinking, his mind having completely forgotten the cotton swabs along with every other thought in the world, and Rorschach shuddered.

“Didn’t mean to –” the redhead began but Dan shook his head.

“It’s okay.” And it was. And it seriously shouldn’t have been. Shit.

“Have to go,” Rorschach muttered and rose shakily to his feet, buttoning his pants with trembling fingers. He sidestepped the puddle of various fluids that was slowly spreading on the floor, and was already leaving by the time Dan caught up with him, hyperaware of how he must look, dripping wet and flushed with some of the most undeserved afterglow of his life.

“Wait!” he called and Rorschach turned to look at him.

“I… uh… promise me you’ll let me know if this happens again, okay? It’s not healthy to keep it to yourself.”

Rorschach’s inky expression shifted, but he didn’t refuse outright, which Dan supposed was a start. When Rorschach made no move to respond, and shifted away again, Dan sighed and moved to leave. While his back was turned, he heard Rorschach clear his throat.

“Thank you, Daniel,” he said stiffly, but Dan had no doubt the statement was genuine. He grinned broadly, too-wide, elated and dizzy and filthy and wrecked. He hoped it didn’t show, his elation like a big neon sign hanging over his head proclaiming _“I’m Dan Dreiberg and I just had the strangest, most messed up and amazing sexual experience of my life.”_ He hoped it did. He wanted to shower and feel disgusted and jerk himself off forever to thoughts of what had just transpired. He wanted to take Rorschach up in his arms and kiss every inch of his freckly, bony, unwashed body, and he wanted to shout from the rooftops that everything was alright with the world because after all of it, all the boundaries that were broken down, and the lines that were crossed in that bathroom, Rorschach still trusted him, still saw him as his friend. He wanted to do a thousand things. Instead, he smiled at the wall and answered:

“Goodnight, Rorschach.”

**Author's Note:**

> Here's hoping that you, like Dan, can find a silver lining in this, and won't be unable to see a penis without crying in the future.


End file.
